


burning across the sky

by misskatieleigh



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, F/F, M/M, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: In the middle of nowhere, between Jedha and Yavin, there is a desert that stretches for days. You can travel around it, slide through Eadu with lights cutting through the continuous rain, but those mountains have eyes that chase strangers away. You can go south. Most don’t, but you can. Or you can go through; watch the sun ride up over the sky from front to back, sleep under the stars and listen for wolves howling their sorrow into the night.Cassian has this route written in his bones, muscle memory keeping them straight and true, moving forward. He thinks he’ll die out here someday, caught in the space between spaces. He’s waiting for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Arder a través del cielo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436045) by [Bright_Elen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen)



In the middle of nowhere, between Jedha and Yavin, there is a desert that stretches for days. You can travel around it, slide through Eadu with lights cutting through the continuous rain, but those mountains have eyes that chase strangers away. You can go south. Most don’t, but you can. Or you can go through; watch the sun ride up over the sky from front to back, sleep under the stars and listen for wolves howling their sorrow into the night. Cassian has this route written in his bones, muscle memory keeping them straight and true, moving forward. He thinks he’ll die out here someday, caught in the space between spaces. He’s waiting for it.

They find Bodhi at Saw’s house, strung out on god knows what and looking like he hasn’t slept for three days. They don’t bother asking if he’s okay, they just buckle him into one of the seats in the back of the van, Cassian’s eyes darting between the road and the shivering figure in his rear-view mirror for the next hundred miles. Beside him, Jyn chews her nails down to the quick, her knees pulled up to her chest. He wants to reach out, tell her it isn’t her fault that the man who raised her turned into a nutcase, surrounding himself with a never-ending cycle of lost souls running from a war that wouldn’t sleep in their minds. It wouldn’t help, but he wants to anyway.

***

It takes two days for the time to catch up with them. Bodhi’s shaking hard enough to rock the van, sweating through his shirt. They stop, over and over, so he can empty his stomach into the sand. Jyn looks ready to crawl out of her skin, caught up in the inability to solve this with fists or sex. Kay, ever the pragmatist, tugs out a well-worn map, circles every hospital or clinic for miles. Bodhi climbs out of the van, stomach empty but still trying to force itself to expel this foreign buzz. He runs.

He runs but Cassian’s legs are longer, catching him around the waist and over his shoulder back across the sand. They don’t go to a hospital. Bodhi lives, a fighter somewhere in his hollow bones. He looks haunted, his eyes sunken dark hollows that skitter across the landscape as if he’s being hunted. If he were an animal he’d be a deer, frozen in the field while his ears twitched and catalogued every noise.

He watches Cassian, his grip on the steering wheel, the ever-deepening crease between his brows. He lost his sunglasses at a diner two states back, feels like he’s been driving into the sun for days, mirages shimmering on the horizon.

***

Jyn’s in the back with Kay, testing her boundaries and her luck. Kay won’t return whatever flirtation she’s drummed up, but he won’t be cruel about it either. His lack of interest in women or men is an essential part of him, tempered by a dry sarcasm that draws a certain type of person like a moth to flame.

Cassian knows how that rejection feels, fifteen and too big for his skin, pressed up against the cool length of his best friend’s back and praying that he wasn’t alone.

Bodhi reaches out, twists the knob of the radio until some lonely guitar fades in and out. Every sudden silence steals the breath from Cassian’s lungs until finally he has to pull over and get out, head between his knees on the side of some highway in the middle of nowhere.

He wants to kiss Bodhi, press him up against the sun warmed side of the van, match up their empty spaces until a whole man emerges. He runs his hand under his shirt, along the ridge of scar that should have ended him. He runs his hands along the scars on his wrists, a thousand thousand miles from home and why hadn’t they let him die.

Bodhi crouches next to him, silent and waiting. Cassian breathes, counts the freckles scattered across Bodhi’s nose and looks up at the sky slipping into dusk. He wants.

Eventually, Jyn pushes him into the back of the van, sliding the driver’s seat forward with a long screech of metal on metal. Kay’s hand in his hair is familiar, long fingers twisting the strands into some semblance of a braid. Bodhi shuts off the radio.

They breathe. They drive. Someday this desert will end. Someday Cassian will thread his fingers through Bodhi’s and wait for the flinch.

***

They stop at a motel, a beacon of light on this empty stretch of road. The sign flashes at them ‘vacancy, vacancy’. The water pressure is weak, dribbling from the showerhead, but Cassian stands for as long as he can, filling his mouth over and over with water. He wrestles the knots from his hair and resolutely ignores his cock.

There are only two beds. Jyn’s stretched out diagonally across one, her ankle clasped in Kay’s fingers. He’s missed something there but it can hold until morning. He doesn’t think about Bodhi in the shower.

Cassian jerks awake when bed dips beside him. The only light in the room is the buzzing flicker of the television, static off-air; the sliver of light from the parking lot between heavy curtains. Bodhi touches his shoulder, long fingers curving over bone. He can’t handle the gentleness there, he hasn’t earned this. He pulls away, bare feet against rough carpet, switches off the television, leans his forehead against the electric warmth of it. The keys are right there. He could run.

Jyn shifts in the other bed, her arms tangled with Kay’s legs. They look like parentheses, curved away at the waist. Bodhi’s watching him. He could run. He finds cigarettes instead, pulls on his pants and twists the lock at the door to stay open so he won’t be tempted by keys. The brick outside is rough against his back, still holding the warmth of the day. He fills his lungs with smoke, shuts his eyes against the neon vacancy vacancy screaming out into the desert. Exhales.

Bodhi opens and shuts the door with a quiet click. He’s not going to escape this, then. Opens his eyes but Bodhi’s are elsewhere, cataloguing scars. His hand reaches out to touch, but Cassian intercepts it, presses palm and fingers over his racing heart instead. Bodhi curls around him, wet hair on his shoulder and their hands trapped between their chests. His skin is luminous, a darker brown than his own sun scalded arms; black hair and dark eyes and moonlight interrupted by neon.

Bodhi says, “Do you remember?”

He says, “I almost forgot you were real.”

Cassian closes his eyes, watches the horizon disappear into a thousand golden shards of glass. Watches the explosion turn them all into so much stardust. How many times has he lived this life, lived and died and lived again, to end up here at a motel at 2 AM with Bodhi touching his skin? How many more before he loses his mind?

Cassian says, “I always remember you.”

He says, “I always let you get hurt.”

Bodhi presses in, soft lips whispering forgiveness across his mouth.

“You always find me.”

***

This is who they are; Bodhi, Cassian, Kay and Jyn. The other players change, depending on the wind and the world, but they four are the constant. Shaped around each other like Jyn and Kay’s parentheses on the bed. Cassian, the fighter that is lost. Jyn, the rebel searching for lost causes. Kay, the statistician, steadfast and sorrowful. Bodhi, the hope, the shining beacon, the spark. They live and they die and they find each other again and again. Somewhere in the universe, they are still fighting, still seeking, still holding each other in the dark, hands clasped around ankles and pressed against the reassurance of beating hearts.

In this one, Bodhi kisses Cassian, hands rough in long hair and soft seeking purchase on too thin limbs. In this one, he pushes Cassian into the back of the van and takes him apart inch by inch to see how they fit together. In this one, he loves.

In every universe throughout time, he loves.

Tomorrow the sun will rise and burn its way across the sky. They will keep driving for endless endless days. Maybe tomorrow they’ll put the radio on. Something joyful, for once.

A little hope on the horizon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another lifetime

It’s different again. The same, but new in ways he doesn't expect.

The first time ( _this time_ ) that Bodhi sees Cassian, they're both locked in cages. ( _Nothing new under the sun_.) Bodhi can't remember how long he's been here, endless days punctuated only with intermittent food and intermittent violence. Life from before seems like some dream. His mother, blue silk wrapped around her head and bruises on her wrists. A man in white, words like silk but made of poison. Blood like a starburst on the wall.

Kay is a surprise, slumped against the outside of the prison cell, one ink black hand slipped between the bars and clasped in Cassian’s fingers. Their lips move, voices pitched low to keep their conversation private. They haven't seen Bodhi yet.

He tucks himself into the corner of the cell, memories from a thousand lives threatening to drown him. Cassian, fierce and haunted in the rain. Cassian, beautiful and serene, caught in the first light of dawn. Cassian, under the flicker of neon, scars like constellations across his skin. Cassian, dying, over and over, a thousand times.

Bodhi chokes, muffled into his hands. His hair, shorn down to the curve of his scalp, feels offensive. He misses the weight of it on his shoulders, the shield of it in his eyes ( _Cassian’s hands, always gentle_ ). This prison is not like Saw's, no monster hides in its depths but the monster of other men. ( _The monster inside himself, blood in his teeth._ )

When he looks up again, Kay is watching him intently. Bodhi shakes his head, a silent plea. He can't burden Cassian with this, with the life they both missed. Cassian is looking the other way, his mouth pressed against Kay’s long fingers. It could be intimacy or a prayer, both sorely lacking inside these oppressive stone walls. Bodhi curls away, pressing his face against the bars and wrapping shaking hands around the cold steel.

Death is coming tomorrow. If he's lucky, Cassian won't figure it out before he's gone. He deserves a little less pain.

* * *

The guard that opens his cell door is new. Bodhi would notice if he looked up, but he learned early on that eye contact only caused more trouble. He hears the hiss when the guard slots the cuffs around his wrists, bone against steel. It's another ploy he's become familiar with, gentle fingers making promises that turn to pain. He's learned not to respond.

They walk down the hall, his feet shuffling across the uneven stone, a hand on his arm and at his back. It's only once they're past the point that anyone could see them that the guard speaks. The gruff tone has him flinching before its cadence becomes familiar, beloved.

“I shouldn't have taken so long. Take care, little bird, we have a plan.”

Bodhi could collapse if not for the strong arms keeping him upright, though he does take the opportunity to lean back into the steady warmth of his friend, his name escaping in a hushed whisper.

“Baze.”

* * *

 The plan, as it is, consists of far more explosives than Bodhi is comfortable with, the memory of Jedha and Scarif still fresh after all these thousand lifetimes. Kay is apparently the tactician, which explains why the ceiling doesn't collapse on their heads. Cassian’s hand touches his face, just once before they disappear into the night. When Bodhi stumbles, it's Baze that sweeps him onto a broad back, grumbling in his chest about having carried heavier feathers.

Bodhi wakes up with his head cradled in Jyn's lap, the muffled sound of an argument leaking through from another room. He turns into the aching familiarity of her hands, the smoky scent clinging to her clothes.

“Jyn. Are they arguing about me?”

Her scoff is barely a huff of breath. “About us, what else is new?”

She looks down at him then, a thin smile wavering on her face. “They're worried about staying here. You're not in much shape for travel though.”

Bodhi knows it's the truth, his time in prison has left him bruised and malnourished. He'd been ready to die before, but that was when he was alone. He's not sure if it's better, having something to lose again.

* * *

They decide to take the chance, up and over the mountain under cover of night. Bodhi catches Cassian's gaze again and again, searching his eyes for the memories of their lives together. He's not sure what he's found this time, what variances their lives up till now have brought into their combined ones.

Baze leads and Kay follows, stalwart defenses around their weaker companions. Eventually, the sun rises and they’re forced to find shelter.

It isn't enough.

The last thought Bodhi has before he dies ( _this time every time_ ) is that he would give anything for another moment with Cassian, safe and loved.

Cassian's mouth against his own, their hands clasped together; that is his only safe harbor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last life

In another life, they find each other early. It's strange, at fifteen, to look up from his math book and meet Cassian's eyes, a thousand lifetimes crashing into him. Cassian's face is soft still, that familiar curve of cheekbone less sharp than before. Bodhi gives silent thanks for dark skin to hide the rush of blood to his cheeks. Cassian’s smile is a million stars streaming by in the quiet of space, a balm to an ache he hadn’t noticed until it was gone.

It takes every ounce of willpower he has to wait until class is over, Cassian's eyes tracking his every move as Bodhi walks up to his desk. Their hands meet without either consciously thinking of it. Bodhi wants to climb into Cassian's lap, wants to bury his face against Cassian's neck; wants, wants,  _ wants.  _

It's a miracle that they aren't caught sneaking out of the school, that they make it down the street before Cassian's pushing him up against the sun warmed brick of the corner bodega. Every memory of every moment like this explodes behind his eyes, though he'll blame being fifteen for the seconds it takes for him to shudder and cry out. 

Cassian's laugh is warm and forgiving against his neck. “Hello love. I missed you too.”

Bodhi keeps his mouth soft, framing Cassian's face with his hands and relearning the shape of Cassian's smile. It's been too many lives since he’s kissed the upturned corner of Cassian's lips, the barest fuzz of a mustache starting to grow there.

“Missed you before I even knew you existed.”

The confession makes Cassian’s eyes flood dark, hitched breath falling against his mouth before he's pulled into another desperate kiss. There are promises hiding on each of their tongues, but Bodhi's hoping for enough time to let them spill out on their own.

* * *

 

Bodhi keeps vigilant, waiting for some sign of the rest of their history to come crashing into the sanctuary of ordinary life. The news programs show their share of violence and oppression, a lack of regard for life that makes Bodhi feel hollowed out inside some days. For all of the evil in the world, there is no man in white seeking their destruction, no harsh drag of manufactured air spreading chaos with an electric hum. Somehow, there are no knives in the dark - for the two of them at least.

They turn eighteen and convince someone to rent them an apartment, scouring thrift stores and Craigslist to fill it with mismatched chairs and a table that wobbles until Bodhi attacks it with borrowed tools and wood glue one rainy weekend. They find Jyn, somehow living in their same building, the biggest worry in her life the assholes that skimp on tips at the diner she waitresses at. 

Bodhi gets offered a scholarship, tied up in a bow from the air force; the horizon spread out before him with small print attached. It sits on the table for days, until Bodhi pitches it in the trash with shaking hands. Two weeks later he signs up for classes at the community college across town, comes home with a set of blue coveralls that Cassian takes great pleasure in stripping him out of, sure hands slotting them together on a couch that sinks almost to the floor in the middle. The grease that collects under Bodhi's fingernails from his auto mechanics class suits him better than clean hands covered in imagined blood. 

Cassian's scholarship is to a university, political science with a side of activism. Bodhi plies him with coffee and learns how to cook an egg without setting their ancient stove on fire. He feels a knot form in his chest, watching other people fall in love with Cassian, with his fire and charm, with his passion for life and freedom. It helps, that Cassian always comes home to him, solid and safe and warm at his back. 

They live and they fight, arguments over dishes left in the sink and jeans that might become sentient if they don't get washed soon. Cassian discovers the great joy of taking down bigots on the internet and Bodhi discovers that watching that wicked smile flicker across Cassian's face turns him on like nothing else. 

Kay shows up in the middle of a thunderstorm one day, a disgruntled cat that scratches at the window until they let him in, wet and indignant and yowling. He lets Cassian towel him off and sniffs at an open can of tuna. They sit on the couch and pretend to ignore him until a clap of thunder sends him streaking into the room and under the curtain of Bodhi's hair. It's worth the claws in his shoulder to feel the purring rumble against his cheek. 

“Hello, friend. Welcome home.”

* * *

 

When Bodhi turns 23, Cassian saves up enough money to get Bodhi flying lessons from a friend of a friend. The minute he gets up in the sky, Bodhi knows he can never live without this again, devoting all his spare cash into working towards his pilot's license. He tries to share the feeling with Cassian, takes him apart with hands and tongue and teeth on every surface they can find for a week, hoarding every gasp and cry he can wrench from Cassian's mouth like it's gold. 

Cassian interns for a political candidate that speaks with the same passion that he does. They lose, but the next job is a paid one, and the next, slowly working up the ranks until he's leading the campaign. It suits him, planning and orchestrating, helping the people that he believes can change things for the better. He hates the tie though, grumbling about having to be an adult until Bodhi threatens to tie him up with every scrap of silk in the apartment. In the end, it goes quite the opposite, Bodhi's arms straining against the knots at his wrists and begging Cassian to fuck him. He still hates the ties, but the memory they bring up makes it a little easier to bear, some sweet secret that he can grip in his hand when he'd rather punch someone instead.

* * *

 

Time...keeps moving. Jyn finds a girlfriend that comes with a troublesome boyfriend attached, but they make it work. The girlfriend's brother shows up with a sunshine smile and Cassian almost  _ almost _ thinks that this could be better for Bodhi, thinks that the smile Bodhi has for Luke might mean something more. He doesn't stay though, and Bodhi doesn't leave. Maybe their kisses are a little more tender after that, or maybe Cassian's just imagining things. He figures that the ‘I love you’s’ pressed into Bodhi's skin say enough. 

They live. One lifetime out of thousands, they live and are loved. It's a good life, and the last. They find each other early. 

They live.

**Author's Note:**

> so, i threw this at [archival_hogwash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/archival_hogwash/pseuds/archival_hogwash) on a tumblr message at like 2AM and she didn't run screaming, so I kept nudging at it until this happened. In essence, after the events of Rogue One, they get stuck in a loop of reincarnation. This is just one loop. If anyone would want to expand on this, write another possible loop, it would please the fuck out of me. I know this is kind of weird, but please let me know what you think!


End file.
